Chapter Sixty
“Well, thank God we sent you, Pat,” the Earl of White Haven said. “These Alignment bastards are pretty ambitious, aren’t they?”
“And this comes to you as a surprise because…?” Elizabeth Winton inquired.
“It was more of a rhetorical comment than a deeply freighted analytical insight,” Honor Alexander-Harrington’s husband told his monarch.
“My own ‘analytical insight’ is that we need to nip this thing in the bud,” Patricia Givens said seriously. The Empress and White Haven looked at her, and she shrugged. “We need to assume they wouldn’t have approached just Maya and Kondratii—not way the hell and gone over on our opposite flank. Maya’s more than thousand light-years from Talbott, for God’s sake! And that means God only knows what kind of snakes’ nest is squirming away under the surface.”
“Pat has a point, Hamish, Your Majesty,” Thomas Caparelli put in. “And I’m inclined to think we need something more…proactive than Lady Gold Peak’s initial response. I think she made exactly the right decision, but we’re seeing more and more evidence of how widespread this is. I don’t think we can afford to wait for requests for assistance to reach us…especially since the ‘Manticorans’ talking to Barregos and Rozsak set up a communications channel that sure as hell didn’t go to us. Unless we’re extraordinarily lucky, a lot of people who think they’ve been promised our support are going to call for it and get no answer when the hammer comes down on them, which is exactly what the Alignment wants.”
“So what sort of ‘proactive’ response did you have in mind, Tom?” Elizabeth tipped back in her high-backed chair and Ariel, her treecat companion, raised his head, watching the two-legs with bright green eyes.
“Well,” the First Space Lord said, “from what Barregos and Rozsak said to Pat—and from their messages to you and President Pritchart, for that matter—they’re about as pissed off as it’s humanly possible to be. It’s also obvious they’re still too thin on the ground to take an open stand against the League. Erewhon’s actually got a lot more firepower currently in commission than they do, but even if their…partnership’s as tight as we think it is, they’d both have to feel nervous about pasting any bull’s-eyes on their chests where the League is concerned.”
He paused, and Elizabeth nodded, her eyes intent.
“I realize we haven’t heard directly from Erewhon about this yet,” Caparelli continued, “but I talked to Tony Langtry, and his analysts agree that Walter Imbesi and the Triumvirate won’t be any happier than Barregos and Rozsak. He also thinks Erewhon would jump at the opportunity to get back into a…happier relationship with us. Especially now that Haven’s our brand-new ally and trading partner.
“Bearing all that in mind, I think our best response might be exactly what ‘Ellingsen’ and ‘Abernathy’ offered Barregos. And I also think we should consider including Erewhon in it.”
“Um.” Elizabeth frowned, but she clearly wasn’t surprised by Caparelli’s suggestion. She thought about it for a moment, then looked at White Haven.
“Hamish?”
“I think it’s a good idea,” he said promptly. “Of course, we need to clear it with Benjamin and with Theisman, now that Pritchart’s en route home. We could do this unilaterally, but I don’t think that would be a very smart idea.”
“You’ve been talking to your wives again, haven’t you?” Elizabeth said with a grin. “All that sneaky diplomacy stuff is finally starting to stick, I see!”
“I do my feeble best,” White Haven replied, and she chuckled. Then she drew a deep breath.
“How much firepower do you think we’d actually have to divert from Grand Fleet?”
White Haven glanced at Caparelli for a moment, then back at the Empress.
“We could probably cover it with three or four squadrons of SD(P)s,” he said. “Especially if we threw in a couple of CLACs and a few munitions ships with Mark 23 pods. For that matter, I don’t think it would be inappropriate to offer both Barregos and Imbesi Mycroft for their home systems.”
“I’d really prefer not to let Mycroft out of our hands just yet,” Caparelli cautioned, and White Haven nodded.
“Agreed. I’m thinking we’d offer them Mycroft on the basis that an Alliance detachment would emplace, operate, and oversee the FTL platforms and control stations.” He raised one hand, palm uppermost. “I’m pretty sure they’d jump at the opportunity once we explained what Mycroft and Apollo can do in conjunction with one another.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Elizabeth said. “Tom, I’d like you and Pat to write up a formal recommendation for me to present to Admiral Theisman and the Protector. Get Sir Anthony involved to be sure it includes the Foreign Office’s perspective.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Caparelli said formally.
“How soon do you think you could have something to me?”
“By the strangest coincidence, Your Majesty,” the First Space Lord opened his briefcase and extracted a chip folio, “I seem to’ve brought it along with me.”
“Well, imagine that!” Elizabeth said while Ariel bleeked with laughter. The Empress shook her head and held out her hand. “I suppose I should at least go through the motions of reading it,” she said. “Would it happen you’ve already drafted movement orders to go with it?”
“Ah, no, Your Majesty,” Caparelli replied after a moment.
“I’m disappointed, Admiral Caparelli,” the Empress of Manticore said. “I suggest you return to your lonely office and get started on that immediately.”
* * *
“And so,” Adam Šiml said from the steps of Lidový Dům, the traditional home of the Národní Shromáždění, the Chotěbořian National Assembly, gazing out across the packed expanse of Náměstí Žlutých Růží, “the task before us will be neither simple nor quickly accomplished. Some changes will come very soon; other changes will take time, effort, and the sweat of hard work. Fortunately,” he allowed himself a quick smile, “anyone who’s been associated with Sokol as long as I have understands about sweat.”
Laughter rumbled across the vast crowd, despite the overcast skies and a temperature several degrees short of warm. But then his expression sobered.
“The worries, the fears, the hopes which have led to so much unrest here in Velehrad and elsewhere across our system represent the valid aspirations of our people. The violence which cost so many lives here in our capital is not the proper way in which to express those aspirations, however, and I think it only proper that both you, the people, and those within your government, should look at that violence and contemplate both its causes and its consequences. During the riots, many of you listened to me and to other leaders of Sokol, other citizens trying to stem the tide of bloodshed and destruction. Others of you did not, and let us be honest with one another, some among the forces charged to restore order were as guilty of excess and of brutality as any of those disrupting the peace.
“I have instructed Minister for Public Safety Kápička and Chief Justice Dalibor Čáp to begin an immediate investigation of the causes of the disturbances, the steps taken to control them, and their consequences. In order to ensure transparency, that investigation will be conducted in partnership with the Národní Shromáždění, which will impanel a special committee for the purpose. The investigation will take however long it takes, but the special committee will issue public reports every thirty days. Those reports will become part of the public record and the basis for remedial action on my part.”
Another sound swept the crowd, but this one was more complex than laughter. It combined astonishment and gratification at the offer, seasoned with more than a trace of skeptical cynicism. The surprising thing, in light of Chotěboř’s experience under the Cabrnoch Administration, was that there was so little cynicism in it.
“Some of the issues which produced and drove the riots are fundamental, underlying problems,” he continued. “Fixing that sort of problem will require that hard work and sweat I mentioned a
moment ago, and it will also require an additional ingredient: patience. I can’t promise all of them will be fixed at all; I can only promise we will fix all of them we can, and that we’ll do so as quickly as we can. There’s no doubt in my mind that many of you will become impatient in the process, and that’s both an inevitable part of human nature and your right as citizens of Chotěboř. But there’s also no doubt in my mind that one element which drove the riots was the sense that legitimate expressions of political opinion and the right to petition for redress have been far too…circumscribed in our public and civic life. Therefore, I am announcing today the immediate suspension of The Defense of the Republic Act.”
This time something very like a gasp rose from the crowd, followed by a total, singing silence, for it would have been impossible to find a single law imposed by the Cabrnoch Administration which had been more universally hated than DORA. Šiml knew that perfectly well, but he went on steadily, his voice clear and calm in the sudden stillness.
“Some provisions of the Act may well be necessary, but from this moment, none of those which constrain freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, or freedom to petition the Národní Shromáždění or the courts will be enforced. Further, I now announce the revocation of the State of Emergency originally proclaimed by President Hruška during the height of the Komár Crisis, and I intend to dissolve the current Národní Shromáždění and call for new elections within the next three months. When the new Deputies are seated, I will formally request that they impanel another special committee charged to review all legislation enacted during the previous administration and recommend to me what portions of that legislation require revision, amendment…or repeal. And that committee, too, shall report publicly every thirty days.”
A thunderous, tumultuous cheer roared up from the crowded square—one that went on and on for at least two full minutes. He waited until it had faded, then looked out across that enormous throng once more.
“And so, my fellow Chotěbořans, I take up the office to which you have elected me. I won’t guarantee success in all the pledges I’ve given you, because sometimes success proves impossible, however powerful and sincere the effort to accomplish it. But I will guarantee you that I will work with every scrap of energy, any trace of wisdom I might possess, and every gram of integrity, imagination, and determination within me to honor and redeem every one of them. If I do not succeed, it will never be because I willingly settled for anything less than total success. I ask you now to support me in this effort by giving me your trust, by making your own wishes and desires known, and by remembering not simply me, not simply the Národní Shromáždění, but our entire star system and every man, woman, and child in it in your prayers.
“Thank you, and good day.”
The cheers went on for almost fifteen minutes.
* * *
“That was a marvelous speech, Adam,” Karl-Heinz Sabatino said that evening, standing on a balcony above the great ballroom in the Presidential Palace with the newly inaugurated president of the Chotěbořian Republika and his vice president.
The Frogmore-Wellington/Iwahara executive had remained tactfully out of sight, aside from a very brief—and formal—greeting and exchange of best wishes following Šiml’s inaugural address. Now, at last, the final guests from the Inaugural Ball had departed, and the three men stood gazing down on the staff beginning the monumental cleanup.
“Thank you, Karl-Heinz,” Šiml said. “I hope it’ll do the trick.”
“So do I,” Sabatino said. “I have to admit, though, I feel a little…concern over that proposal to review all of Cabrnoch’s legislation. Some of its provisions—and not necessarily the most popular ones—are there for very important and valid reasons.”
“I’m aware of that.” Šiml turned from watching the work crews to face Sabatino squarely. “And I’m aware there are limits in all things. Despite that, I fully intend to carry out that review. And I intend to act on any of the special committee’s recommendations that can be acted upon. You and I both know that what happened in the riots happened because the unrest, the unhappiness with the way in which Cabrnoch tried to silence all dissent, lock anyone who might oppose him completely out of politics, built up a head of pressure that had to vent sooner or later. If the people of Chotěboř decide that all they got out of the special election was a change in faces—that there isn’t really any difference between Cabrnoch and Juránek, on the one hand, and me and Zdeněk, on the other—that pressure’s going to explode even more violently than it just did.
“I realize that as the custodian of Frogmore-Wellington and Iwahara’s interests you have to be concerned about any actions which might impact those interests. But Daniel doesn’t really need DORA or the more extreme measures Cabrnoch adopted under the state of emergency to maintain public order and prevent the government’s overthrow. He doesn’t think he does, for that matter—it was part of the reason he argued when Cabrnoch ordered him to use the CPSF against the rioters—and I agree with him. More than that, I firmly believe that providing Chotěboř with a government its citizens believe is truly committed to its civil rights and political freedom is the best way to reduce the pressure that caused the riots in the first place. I’m sure you’ll have a great deal of influence on the membership of the new Národní Shromáždění, just as you did in the previous one, and between the Deputies and myself, it should be possible to provide enough real, substantive relief of that internal pressure without having the entire structure fly apart and produce the chaos and death that could destabilize all of Frogmore-Wellington and Iwahara’s interests.”
He met Sabatino’s gaze levelly, and finally—slowly—the off-worlder nodded.
“It’s going to be a difficult needle to thread, Adam. But I’m confident that if anyone can do it, it’s you.”
“Thank you,” Šiml said quietly. “I appreciate that. And I promise you, I’ll never forget who made it possible for me to hold this office or why I’m here. People who forget their friends have no one but themselves to blame when they come to a bad end, and I have no intention of coming to any bad ends.”
Chapter Sixty-One
“I should be back in Lądowisko catching up on things,” Justyna Pokriefke grumbled as the air car swept across the Wiepolski Ocean. “I don’t have time to be gadding around to social occasions!”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Szefie!” Gabriel Różycki scolded. “You’ve always got something to ‘catch up on.’ You could spend the next three years in the office and not change that. Besides, it’s been months since you stuck your nose outside the capital, and this is the biggest Dzień Przewodniczącego since the Agitacja! You need a break. And even if you didn’t, you need to be here.”
She looked at him balefully, but she also nodded. Różycki was thirty-seven T-years old, only about half her age, and improbably handsome with his blond hair and gray eyes. She knew there were rumors—very quiet rumors, considering who they were about—that he was considerably more than merely her assistant and closest aide. In fact, there was no basis to the rumors at all, although she’d sometimes considered exploring the possibility. Never very seriously, though. He was too smart—and too valuable—for her to risk destroying his utility to her. Besides, she’d come to think of him as the son she’d never had.
And in this instance, he was right…again.
She didn’t really like Tomasz Szponder. There was something about him, an air of superiority or possibly…disapproval. Something. Perhaps it was her sense that he was perfectly prepared to enjoy all his own privileges but sneered judgmentally down his nose at the woman who made sure he had them. Or maybe it was just the prestige his extraordinarily low Party number bestowed upon him. Despite her present position, Pokriefke wasn’t one of the Trzystu; her party number, unfortunately, was only 1,413—respectably low, but scarcely one of the “Three Hundred”—and perhaps that was what made her feel ill at ease around him. He’d never been anything but courteous to her, and he’d brought her m
ore than a little useful information when his newsies turned up something he thought she should know about. But there was still that something.
Yet he was also a very powerful man: one of the foremost members of the Oligarchia, a personal friend—virtually an uncle—of the Przewodniczący, and one of the shrinking number of Trzystu. With all that behind him, Tomasz Szponder wasn’t a man anyone wanted for an enemy. He was considerably more popular with the RON’s rank and file than the majority of the current Party leadership, too, and his reputation for philanthropy made him far better liked and admired by lower class Włocławekans than the vast majority of his fellow oligarchs. And on today, especially, the fact that only six people in the entire Włocławek System, none of them still active in Party affairs, had lower Party numbers than his meant declining his invitation would have been…contraindicated. Besides, it was a foregone conclusion that with everyone who was anyone in the Ruch Odnowy Narodowej in attendance, all manner of alliance building and tweaking would take place over the vodka and canapés.
Maybe that’s why I’m feeling so sour. The truth is that I hate “social affairs” at the best of times, and this is going to be the grandmother of all social affairs!
Well, maybe it was, but Gabriel was right. Wherever she wanted to be, this was where she had to be, and she gazed out the window as the green and white, reef-fringed dot of Szafirowa Wyspa appeared against the dark blue water far below.
* * *
“Welcome, Szymon!” Tomasz Szponder said, shaking the Przewodniczący’s hand as the official limousine lifted away from the landing stage, bound for the parking garage at the rear of Prezent do Praksedá’s enormous chalet.
That parking garage rose three landscaped stories into the air, with another four levels buried underground, not a minor achievement on an island. Szponder’s great-great-great-grandfather had intended his estate for serious entertaining, and the current Szponder sometimes wondered if his ancestor had been inspired to outdo the ancient palace of Versailles on Old Terra. He’d have been certain that was what the old man had in mind if Teodozjusz Szponder had ever been off Włocławek. What mattered right now, however, was that there was room in that garage for literally hundreds of air cars. On the other hand, even its capacity was going to be seriously challenged today, which was one reason he’d convinced his guests to let him consolidate their security needs rather than piling dozens of additional vehicles into the available parking and servicing space.